Angel

Lunch time. Damiens favorite period. It was the only time he could be further than a few metres away from another living person. The school grounds where divided into two, the football field and the cemented area, hugged by huge, shadowing brick walls. Sometimes it felt more of a prison than a school. Damien always kept to himself, under the shade of the tree in the far corner of the school yard, the tree was embraced by a square of long seats, only of which one was ever occupied, and that was by Damien and the gloomy aura he brings with him. From the protection of the tree he drew and wrote, whatever came to his mind, he would translate onto the paper. But for the fifth week, only one thing dwelt within his mind. Rose.

Occasionally he would look over at her, admire her for a brief moment. Trying to avoid awareness of his sentry eyes, Damien never looked over for too long. Maybe, this was the reason he never realised, Rose would sometimes look over and wonder from the opposite corner.

One day, while manically sketching away within his book, so embedded into his artwork, Damien didn't realise that the one person on his mind was watching over his shoulder a mere few feet away. The white noise of teenage laughs and taunts, sweet bird songs and music from the distance was soon cut down by a tender soft voice.
"Wow. Your drawings have really picked up!"
Damien froze. The one time, the one single time he didn't draw an angel, or a flower, or something posotively glamarous, and instead a decapitated man being launched into the air by a catapult, Rose had to see it. Damien swiftly closed his book,
"Uh... You weren't meant to see that..." His voice was shaken and nervous, and it was well obvious. His dark hair covered his face, his black hood covered his entangled hair.
"No, please, show me your stuff. It's really well... constructed." Rose's voice was so innocent he could hardly refuse. Damien handed over the black sketch book, he couldn't help but notice how bright Rose appeared. Her hair tied back neatly, makeup precisely pampered on, her white dress gleamed in the sunlight. The contrast between the two was phenomenal. Damien noticed she didn't flick through the drawings like most people. She took her time, admiring each individual piece.
"I can't help but notice... The amount of... Roses..." The sentence to Damien was a poisoned chalice. So easy on the ears, but the reality hit him in the face. He forgot that book was almost entirely filled with blood red roses.
"Uh... They a-are my favorite... Ummm... P-plant... Thing..." His voice was becoming increasingly unsteady. Rose looked at him, he stared deep into her soft, ocean blue eyes, complemented so well by her gorgeous smile.
"Hey, I like it. Keep it up, kid." Her voice was like silk. As she skipped away, Damien stood in complete awe. Why the hell would the likes of her ever even associate with such an anti social fiend like him? He thought nobody would ever want to talk to him... let alone her.

When Rose reached her circle of friends, it all fell into place. All of her friends burst into fits of laughter, looking over, staring at Damien as they cackled. Damien's heart shattered, Rose didn't care about him, nor his drawings. As always, some shallow group where seeking out someone to stone. As he sat back down on the degrading school seat, another thing came to realisation. She had taken his drawing book. As he sat in complete void, for once in weeks, the thought of violently killing himself became once more apparent. His angel had become his hell.

Maybe if he had again looked over at Rose, he would have noticed the horrible, guilty expression, smeared across her face.